Over and Over, The Past Repeats
by MandaPandaAR
Summary: The loss of her brother sends Ginny on a desperate search for the one thing that could possibly bring him back, but her last chance to say goodbye is ruined when her past comes back to haunt her.


**A/N: **This story was written for kcstories as a gift exchange for the livejournal community riddlegifts. :) At 7, 500 words, it's the longest fic I've written since _Saving His Soul. _It's nice to be back. :) I hope you guys like it! (There is also artwork that goes with this story, so if anyone wants to see it then just go to my livejournal. I'm mandya06 over there.)

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She had been falling to pieces only minutes ago. Her hands shaking, her heart hammering in her chest, not able to breathe past the pain.

The excited voices of the survivors had only made it worse; that they could stand there and smile while the dead lay mere inches from their feet disgusted her.

_Fred. Fred. Fred. Fred. _

_The horror in George's eyes as he looked onto his twin's dead body. Her mother sobbing, her father shaking with grief. Her brothers, angry and shocked._

_She couldn't take it. _

But now she had hope.

"_Ginny, have you ever heard of the Resurrection Stone?" _

Stumbling over tree roots and bramble, she ran, her long hair tangling with leaves and spider webs. She pushed branches away from her face with flailing arms, not bothering to stop as the trees cut into her pale skin.

Blood from a wound on her cheek slid slowly down her face, mixing with sweat and dirt and tears that she hadn't wiped away.

They were her war trophies.

She kept running.

"_Are you ok Ginny?"_

_No. "Yes."_

"_Tell me what to do. Tell me how to help." He sounded so desperate._

_Bring my brother back. Make my family whole again. "I just… I wish I could see him. Just one last time, to say goodbye." She whispered, staring at nothing._

_Harry's cold hand tightened around hers and she looked up; the bags under his eyes were dark and purple, like bruises, and she almost felt sorry for him. The hero. Her hero. The one who had survived while so many others had died. _

_He looked uncertain, scared even, and she wondered what he could possibly have to fear now. _

"_There may be something." He said softly. _

_There's nothing. "What?" She stared at him, feeling numb._

"_You can't tell anyone. I meant for it to never be found but… I love you Ginny. I want you to be able to say goodbye. I trust you to hide it once and for all, after…"_

"_After what Harry? What are you talking about?"_

_He smiled at her and his fingers reached up to stroke her dirtied cheek. _

"_Ginny, have you ever heard of the Resurrection Stone?" _

She ran faster, away from the crumbling castle and the people who were still celebrating, still weeping, and still trying to take it all in.

Voldemort had been dead for over two hours now, but her brother had been dead for far longer. His body was already becoming stiff and turning milky white.

Bile burned in her throat, choking her, slowing her down, but she couldn't stop. She had to get there as fast as she could while she still had the chance.

Harry's memory had been vague; too many things had happened since he had dropped the stone in the forest, but he knew that it had been somewhere in the spiders' lair, close to the entrance. Aragog's old home, he had said.

"_Aragog?"_

"_Yes. The acromantula that Hagrid took care of. The one that Tom Rid…"_

_Don't say his name. "I know Harry." She interrupted. _

"_Yes, well, all you have to do is follow the spider webs. I don't think the other spiders have returned, but if they have then I don't want you near there. Come straight back here. Do you promise?"_

_No. I'm going to find the stone, no matter what. "…"_

"_Do you promise Ginny?" He urged._

"_Yes Harry, I promise."_

The sparkling webs were getting larger, more intricate, hanging low from the drooping branches. Every break in the treetops brought a burst of light into the forest, illuminating the webs, making them look like gossamer threads covered with hundreds of diamonds.

It was a spectacular sight, one that Ginny couldn't fully appreciate. Not now when she was so close.

There was something strange up ahead; a large cluster of trees, covered in webs, looked as though they opened up to something… like a large clearing.

Ginny slowed down, feeling excited and nervous and breathless and… scared.

"_What if I can't find it? What if it doesn't work?"_

"_It will Ginny, trust me. All you have to do is turn it in your hand three times, and think of Fred. You'll see him again."_

_Fred._

_She smiled. It was too good to be true._

_Harry smiled back and hugged her close._

"_Go now, and get rid of it when you're done."_

_We'll see. "I will Harry. Thank you."_

_She stepped away from him and stared into his green eyes for a moment longer before she turned and ran towards the castle's ruined entrance._

_She didn't look back._

The forest floor near the clearing was a mess of scattered footprints, broken branches, and trampled spider webs. The smell of smoke hung heavy in the air but whatever fire there had been must have died out. Ginny didn't enter the clearing to investigate.

Falling to her knees, she began to search as carefully as she could, though she grew more hopeless with every passing second.

How could she possibly find a dark rock on a forest floor? It was almost absurd, crawling around on her hands and knees in the dirt, searching for a _stone._

Searching like a… muggle.

"_Of course_!" She whispered, pulling out her wand from the pocket of her torn robes. She'd been too frantic to think of this before but now that she had her wand in her hand she felt confident and a little more at ease.

"Accio Resurrection Stone," she said, trying to ignore the tremor in her voice and the knot tightening her stomach.

The ground twitched a few feet in front of her, as though a burrowed insect was trying to escape from the tightly packed dirt. Ginny stuffed her wand back into her robes and almost tripped over her feet as she ran to the spot.

Her fingers hastily dug into the cold earth, past the grass and the useless multicolored pebbles, until something small and dark glinted dully through the coarse soil.

Ginny, breathless and shaking, picked up the curious black stone – curious because of jagged crack running down the middle – and brushed off the remaining dirt with her fingertips.

She could hardly believe what she was holding. She remembered her mother telling her and her siblings 'The Tale of the Three Brothers' every Hallows Eve, but she had never once believed that they were real. It was just a fairytale. Entertaining and impossible.

But nothing was impossible. Hadn't Fred and George always told her that? Nothing was impossible.

_Fred. My brother._

She turned the stone once in her hand as the image of Fred smiling mischievously burned in her mind.

One.

She turned the stone again and felt the jagged crack, the worn engraving on its face. She could almost hear him laughing, telling her some joke that their mother would have scolded him for.

Two.

It happened in that one moment where the stone was making its third turn in her hand. She was thinking of not only her brother, but of the others she had lost. Remus, Tonks, Colin – who had always been a good friend to her – and many others whom she had talked to in the hallways, or shared notes with during classes.

And then there was… _Tom_.

Suddenly and completely unwanted, a torrent of memories flooded her mind.

"_Tom, you're always so good to me. I'm so glad I have you."_

"_And I'll always be here for you, Ginevra. Always…"_

_He had called her by her real name and it made her feel so grown up. _

"_Tom, I think something's wrong with me. Dear Tom, I'm scared. I keep waking up in the strangest places, and I don't know how I got there. Dear Tom, I wish I could see you. I wish you were really here with me."_

"_You will be able to see me Ginevra, but only if you keep me close to your heart. Forever."_

A scream of fury bubbled up in her throat, but Ginny couldn't make the memories stop. The familiar, healing image of Fred's bright blue eyes had been replaced. Instead she now saw a pair of dark, handsome eyes, and a face she had seen for only seconds as her life was slipping away.

"_Go to sleep little Ginny, and maybe you won't feel a thing."_

The stone turned completely and fell still in her clammy hand.

Three.

There was no sudden mist, or otherworldly noise, or any kind of indication that something had happened.

He was simply there.

He was sitting on the ground, his limp body supported only by the large tree that he was slumped against, as though he had been tossed there. The shabby gray tunic he was wearing appeared to be too small for his long limbed frame; his bare feet poked out from the frayed bottom of the pants.

He looked like a lifeless doll, pale and beautiful and staring at her with dark, unblinking eyes.

"No." Ginny whispered in horror.

A dark eyebrow lifted curiously but he made no other movement.

"No. Not you. Fred. I want to see Fred!"

Minutes passed in silence. She watched him closely and waited for him to do something, afraid that he would suddenly spring up and attack, but he did nothing. Ginny became frustrated by his stillness. She wanted him to speak, to move, to do anything just to prove that he was real and not some nightmare.

"Say something, dammit!" She screamed. Her knees were aching as she continued to sit on them, but she didn't care. "You're the reason he's dead, the reason for every horrible thing that has happened in my life! Have you nothing to say to that? You _coward_! I hate you! I'm glad you're dead!"

Her chest was heaving with the force of her hatred. He was murderer. A monster. He had no right to look like that. So vulnerable…

"Say something!"

There was a moment of silence – expect for the sound of her harsh breathing – and then, "I know your face."

If she hadn't seen his lips move then Ginny wouldn't have believed he had spoken. His voice was hoarse, as though he had been screaming or crying for a long time, but the tone was quiet and thoughtful, not pained. His body remained motionless as he continued to stare at her, but he was talking now.

"Your name, I know it. It's Ginevra, yes?" When Ginny didn't respond Tom continued. "It's strange." he said softly. "A part of me knows you very well, but only a small part. The rest of me... the rest of me…" he trailed off, looking confused.

"You don't know me at all." She said sharply.

"I think I did once. You told me… no, you _wrote_ to me, in a diary. Dear Tom…"

"Stop!" She shrieked, and she held up a hand as though to silence him.

Tom quieted and went back to his motionless state, staring at her with his dark eyes, neither happy nor sad. But empty.

"I didn't mean to bring you back." She said once she had calmed a bit. "You shouldn't be here. You don't _deserve_ to be here."

"Don't. Please, don't." He was pleading but it sounded vacant somehow. Hopeless.

"Don't what?" She snapped.

"Don't send me back there."

Ginny glared at him through narrowed eyes but her curiosity momentarily subdued her anger. She wanted to know where he had been, what had happened to him after he had died.

_Died. _She was talking to a dead man.

"Back where?"

"I can't remember. Perhaps there's nothing to remember. Perhaps I came from Nothingness." A tremor shot through him, moving his body for the first time.

"You deserve worse." She whispered. Tom didn't answer, but continued to stare blankly at her.

"I'm sending you back. I never want to see you again." Her tight grip on the Resurrection Stone loosened and the tension seemed to ease out of her. She didn't _have_ to see him anymore. He was dead. Dead and gone forever.

"_You will be able to see me Ginevra, but only if you keep me close to your heart. Forever."_

"You're going back."

"You've said that already." Tom's voice was quiet again. Hopeless. "I remember you quite clearly now. Ginny Weasley."

The stone slid down to her fingertips.

"You were a sacrifice, the one who would restore me. Bring me back. You're much older now though, aren't you?" He whispered. "Why are you still bringing me back, little Ginny?"

The stone fell from her hand and Tom Riddle vanished as if he had never been there.

"Back to hell with you." She said to no one.

But now that he was gone, and she was able to really think about what had just happened, she felt frozen with shock. She had just seen and spoken to Tom Riddle. _Lord Voldemort_. The monster whose body was, at that very moment, rotting away in some room at Hogwarts.

But he hadn't looked like a monster. He had looked like a boy who had no more fight left in him. No hopes, no dreams, no drive to do anything.

It was similar to how she herself felt at that moment. She no longer wanted to see Fred, too afraid that he would know what she had done, whom she had called forth in his place. And she couldn't tell Harry, not ever. He would see it as a betrayal, having used the stone to bring back his dead enemy.

There was nothing left for her to do but to bury the stone here forever and live with the memory of the beautiful – monstrous – boy with the haunted eyes.

"Get rid of it." She muttered to herself. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized that she didn't _want_ to get rid of it. It was too much of a temptation; she would go looking for it again in the future, despite what she had promised Harry.

_Harry_. What would he think of her now? But it wouldn't matter, if he never knew. If she was careful. If she was mad enough to even go through with it.

Maybe she _had_ gone mad?

Ginny sat there on the cold forest floor for an immeasurable amount of time, staring at nothing but seeing those dark, deadened eyes very clearly.

_No one would ever know._

When the spiders returned, defeated and driven back into the forest, they were greeted by nothing but a few scattered remnants of the Wizards' presence in their home.

That suited them just fine as they didn't plan on getting caught up in the affairs of Wizards ever again, if they could help it.

When she finally found Harry among the mass of people still in the castle, Ginny realized that she had been gone for only an hour. It had felt like days since she had run from his side and into the forest.

Harry gently pulled her away from the crowd before anyone had even realized she was there, for which she was grateful. She couldn't bear to see her family or her dead brother's body. Not now after her betrayal.

"Did you see him?" Harry asked when they were alone. He was smiling at her, completely unaware.

No. "Yes Harry."

"I won't ask what happened. That's between you and Fred now."

No, not Fred. Tom. "Thank you." She said softly.

"Is it gone? I mean, did you hide it well enough?" He whispered.

"No one will ever find it." No one. Not ever.

"Good. I love you Ginny."

Harry reached for her right hand and entwined their fingers together.

Ginny's left hand was hidden in her robe pocket, and her fingers traced the jagged crack that ran up the middle of the old stone.

"I love you too."

The next two months were difficult.

It was strange, seeing how the Wizarding world picked up the pieces again, seeing how families and friends came together to grief and to celebrate. It should have been a time of healing for Ginny, as it was for everyone else, but there was nothing to take away the constant aching in her chest.

And the worst of it was that she didn't know who she was hurting for. The loss of her brother had been devastating (she still couldn't look George in the eye when he came to visit), and it was hard to watch Harry being constantly bombarded by attention when all he wanted was to be left alone. She ached for her family, who were all trying so hard to move on, and for her friends who had been lost in the war.

But there was something else.

"_Why are you still bringing me back, little Ginny?"_

The Resurrection Stone was her constant companion – always in the pocket of whatever outfit she was wearing – but she hadn't used it since that awful day in the woods. She was too much of a coward to bring him back even though she desperately wanted to. She had so many questions that she needed answers to, and perhaps when she got them she would finally have peace.

There was only one way to find out.

The curtains framing her small window were drawn, allowing only a few stray beams of the afternoon sunlight to enter her room. She needed the darkness for this, even though the idea of being alone with _him _in the dark was slightly terrifying.

_You're not a child_, she scolded herself. And besides, Tom was dead. He couldn't hurt her anymore.

This was her only chance to do this anyway, when everyone else was out for the afternoon, shopping and what not. How Ginny had managed to get them to go without her, she didn't know. She was constantly in the presence of her worried mother or Harry, and most especially Hermione. Her best girl friend had taken notice to Ginny's deepening depression, and she was always trying to get her out of the house and into the sunshine. As if the sun would help to brighten her mood.

It didn't.

Once, about a month after the end of the war, Hermione suggested that the four of them – Ginny with Harry, and Hermione with Ron – should go on a double date together.

"_It would be a lot of fun." Hermione had insisted._

"_I don't think so."_

_Hermione frowned, the false excitement seeping out of her. "Why not?"_

_Because Harry… "I'm just not up for it right now. Dating, I mean."_

"_Oh." Hermione hesitated, was blushing even, before she asked gently, "Are you and Harry… I mean, it's none of my business but… are you two having any trouble?"_

_Yes. "No."_

"_Then why…"_

"_I just need a little time, is all." Ginny interrupted. "To get my head on straight again."_

_Hermione nodded, but she still seemed forlorn. "Alright. If you change your mind…" She turned to leave but glanced back over her shoulder before she rounded the corner. "Harry loves you, you know."_

"_I know." Ginny whispered. _

_But Harry… isn't enough. Not anymore. _

She sat crossed legged on her small bed and closed her eyes as she turned the cold stone in her hand. But what if it didn't work a second time? What if you only had one chance? If he didn't appear again then she would never get her answers. She would never have any peace.

Images of Tom flashed behind her closed eyelids, even after the stone fell still in her palm; his eyes (empty, dark, staring out at her from a beautiful face), the curve of his lips, the sound of his voice, the pallor of his skin, the gentle curl in his hair…

"You're trembling."

Startled, Ginny's eyes popped open, her mouth forming a perfect O of surprise. She really hadn't expected it to work again. But it had and there he was, slouched against the wall in a shadowy corner of her room, looking both real and unreal. Like something solid but not quite touchable.

"What did you say?" She asked, her voice cracking a little.

"I said you're trembling. Why? Are you afraid?"

"No." She said too quickly.

"_Liar_." Ginny's body shook. "I can always tell… could always tell. I think. I don't know." Hopelessness colored his tone, just as it had before, making him seem so weak. So vulnerable, but so lovely. Even in the shadows of her room, even in death, his beauty overwhelmed her.

"Do you remember me?" She asked.

He stared at her, seeming uncertain. "I thought you were a dream." He whispered. "But I don't think I can dream, wherever I'm from. I… don't send me back there." He said suddenly, surprising her.

She ignored his request. "You don't know where you've come from?"

"No. I don't think I want to." He looked like he meant it.

"You're dead, do you know that?" Ginny asked harshly. Tom said nothing, but stared right into her eyes, his limp body completely still.

"You've been dead for two months. Don't you care?" No answer, no movement at all. "Why can't you remember? Don't you know who you are?"

"Yes. I am Lord Voldemort." The words sounded strange coming from him. There was no pride, no pleasure in what he said. He spoke what he knew to be true, but that was all. There was no emotion.

"No! You are Tom Riddle."

"I am both."

"No, there is only one of you."

"There was more than one. Many, many broken pieces. I think I'm still torn up. I think it hurts…"

Ginny was horrorstruck. He was talking about the spilt pieces of his soul… his Horcruxes. Harry had told her, but she hadn't wanted to believe. It was too ghastly, but it was true.

"Pain." He whispered. "There is only pain there. I think."

"What did you expect?" Ginny whispered furiously. "Did you expect rainbows and piles of Cauldron Cakes and…"

"I expected nothing. I didn't want to die."

"Too late." she spat, hating him. Hating the way she felt pity for him even though he didn't deserve it.

"Is that why you've brought me back Ginny, to gloat?"

"So you _do_ remember me?" She asked, ignoring his question.

"Of course. I remember you with leaves in your hair and a frenzied look in your eyes. I remember you with small, ink stained hands and a girlish blush in your cheeks."

"Stop it, damn you!" She yelled, her fists pounding down on her bed. "Just stop. I was just a child then."

"You still are."

"And you're still an evil bastard. I suppose time spent in hell can't even change that."

"Hell." He said, seeming to ponder the word. "No, I don't think so. Hell is a place; surely I would remember a place. But Nothingness… that I would have no memory of."

"Fine then. So you come from Nothingness. Who cares."

"You do."

"No I…"

"_Yes_, you do. Why do you care little Ginny? Why do you care so much if I'm just an evil bastard?"

She glared at him, but he met her gaze with steady eyes. "I don't… know."

"Why…"

"Enough!" She interrupted him. "I'm asking the questions, and then I'm sending you back. Do you understand?"

"Naturally." He didn't seem angry with her, but his calm acceptance was almost frightening. It was unnatural. Then again, nothing about this conversation was natural. She was speaking to the dead, after all.

"I want to know why."

"Why what?"

"Why you did what you did. You do remember your life, all of the horrible things?"

"Sometimes I do. Some things are clearer, but yes, I suppose so."

"Then why?"

"What is the purpose of this question?"

"Just answer it!"

"To live, little Ginny."

"You were so evil because you wanted to live?" She said, annoyed and confused. "That doesn't make sense."

"It does to me."

"Of course it does. You're barking mad." Tom just stared at her. His body was still limp, supported by the wall behind him.

"What's wrong with your body? Why can't you ever move?" She complained.

"Does my body interest you?" The question was innocent enough, but heat still rose up into Ginny's cheeks. Thankfully Tom didn't mention her blush, or perhaps he just didn't notice. "I don't know why, but you're right. I can't really move. My muscles, my arms and legs, everything feels so heavy. My skin smarts a bit as well. It feels a little raw."

Ginny almost gagged. What happened to him in this Nothingness? She scooted closer to the end of the bed, closer to where he sat in the shadows.

"Why are you wearing those clothes?" She asked, gesturing towards his strange gray outfit. The same one that he was wearing the last time.

"Do you like them?"

"Not really. They don't seem to fit you very well."

Was it just her imagination, or did his mouth almost twitch up into a smile?

"They never used to fit right, at the orphanage. They were always too small. And annoyingly itchy."

This information surprised her. "The orphanage? When you lived with Muggles? Hmm, it must be some kind of torture then."

"If it is, then it's working. I hate them." He didn't sound upset though.

"Can you hate? I didn't think you felt emotion anymore."

"I do, but I try not to. It hurts me."

Ginny stared at him, unsure of what to say. This was all so bizarre.

"Why…"

"Ginny! Hey, where are you?" Ron's voice rang throughout the house, and Ginny almost dropped the Resurrection Stone in surprise.

"Ginny, come see the loads of new stuff George made!" Harry yelled from somewhere downstairs. She could hear the others now, shuffling in and chattering excitedly. It made her stomach twist in fear.

"You have to go." She whispered, panic coloring her voice. Tom sat there watching her, waiting.

"Ginny! Where are you?" Hermione yelled out.

"They're coming." Tom said quietly.

"I know, but…" She had to ask just one more question. She wouldn't be able to sleep until she did. "Are you sorry? For any of it? For all of it?"

"Ginny?" There were footsteps coming up the stairs, towards her room.

"It doesn't matter." Tom said quietly. "It's too late for me to be sorry. And nothing would change if I was."

There was a knock on her door. "Ginny…?"

"It's never too late, Tom." She whispered.

The doorknob turned.

"Poor little Ginny. Still so young."

The stone fell towards her mattress and Tom was gone in the blink of an eye. Ginny suddenly felt very alone.

Hermione's head peeked in through the crack of her opened door. "Hey. Are you ok? We've been calling you." She glanced around her room, staring suspiciously at the closed curtains.

"I'm fine Hermione." Ginny said, turning her body towards the door. Her knee subtly shifted as well, keeping the stone hidden under her leg. "I was just waking up from a nap."

"Oh." Hermione smiled, all worries momentarily erased. "Come on downstairs then. We've got loads to show you. Your mum's bought you something as well."

Ginny tried to smile, but she couldn't quite manage it. "Okay, I'm coming." She hopped off the bed but managed to grab the stone without Hermione noticing; it was still warm from her hand. Slipping it into her pocket, Ginny followed Hermione out of her dark room with the eerie feeling that someone was watching them go.

She shut the door behind her.

One. Two. Three. It was as simple as that.

"Hullo again." She said as Tom appeared before her. She was sitting on the far end of her bed this time, while Tom's body was propped up by her soft white pillows and the headboard. There was only a little distance between their bodies.

"How long has it been since you last called for me?" There was something off about him. He looked exactly the same as the last two times – pale skin, dark eyes, bare feet, the shabby gray tunic, the impossibly beautiful face – but he was different. His voice didn't sound as empty as it had before, and his body seemed tense, not at all limp as he usually was.

"Is that what I do? I call for you?" Ginny asked, wanting to hear his voice again. She needed to know what was so different about it.

"I guess so. I don't know. Do I ever know anything?" There! She heard it again and it was stronger this time. "How long has it been?"

"Just a little over two weeks. I haven't been able to get away from my family. They're worried about me." _Very worried_, she thought darkly. "But they're out today, and I was able to stay home alone. Why does it matter?"

Tom's body gave a slight jerk, and the sudden motion was alarming. "It doesn't matter. I was simply curious." And he did look curious. He never usually looked like anything. No feeling, no emotion, other than hopelessness. But now…

"Oh!" Ginny gasped. "You can _feel_ now. That's why you're so different. I thought it hurt you to feel things?"

Tom didn't answer right away. Perhaps he was trying to test her theory? "It does hurt, though not as much. I'm not sure what's happening."

"That's why you were acting so strangely! You were _angry_, when you asked how long it had been. Your body even moved…" Ginny trailed off and stared at him with wide eyes. "_Can_ you move?" She whispered.

Tom shrugged his shoulders, and then he smiled, but only for a moment. "I guess I can, a little." The fingers on his left hand twitched atop the pillow. Ginny watched the movement carefully and then looked over the rest of his body, waiting for him to jump up off the bed and… and what could he do? He was dead and she held in her hand the power to send him back to wherever it was that he existed now. He couldn't harm her here.

"Does this frighten you?" Tom asked quietly.

Ginny's eyes found his and she didn't back down from the intensity of his stare. "No. You can't hurt me anymore." There was doubt in her voice and it sickened her to hear it.

"Why would I want to hurt you?"

"You did once."

"A long time ago, little Ginny. You were so small then, all boney limbs and narrow hips. You've grown up nicely, though." His eyes traveled down the front of her body and Ginny suddenly felt completely exposed, as though she were sitting before him nude instead of fully dressed. "Besides," he continued, his eyes on her face, "The past doesn't matter now. It's all over." There was that slight edge of anger in his voice again.

"It isn't over for me. Not while I can still remember. Not while my brother is still dead." She said, glaring at him. "But I don't suppose you care about that."

"I'm not all that troubled at the moment, no."

"And you're not sorry at all, are you?"

He suddenly looked exasperated; there was a slight crinkle between his eyes as his brow furrowed. "You asked me this before, yes? I told you Ginny, there is no point. To say that I'm sorry would be meaningless now and it wouldn't make your brother any less dead. It wouldn't bring me back from…"

"From Nothingness." Ginny finished. Tom nodded his head slightly, but said nothing. There was fear in his eyes.

"Why are you still so afraid?" She whispered. "You're already dead Tom and there is nothing you can do. Your return is inevitable. So why can't you just accept it?"

"Because I remember nothing. Because I don't know what I will be returning to. I don't want to go back there, but you always send me back. Always!" He was yelling at her. Ginny cringed away, wishing he could go back to his unemotional state.

"Why do you bring me here if you just send me back? Why don't you call your brother instead, if his death is so horrible to you? Make somebody else wish they could touch you, just to see if you're really real, and not just some bloody hallucination."

"You wish you could touch me?" Ginny asked softly, feeling more confused then ever.

Tom ignored her question. "I didn't want to die. And it was my fault. I _let_ it happen. And now there is only pain, and awful memories of being split into pieces, and those damned green eyes, and you." Tom's body was tense again, his hands balled into fists.

"I'm sorry." Ginny didn't know what else to say.

"Haven't I already told you? Being sorry doesn't matter Ginny." He said, his voice harsh. "It doesn't bring me back from the dead!"

"I thought I already had. You're here, aren't you? At least for now."

"Then keep me with you, if you're so sorry. Let me stay."

"_You will be able to see me Ginevra, but only if you keep me close to your heart. Forever."_

"I can't do that Tom." She whispered. "I can't."

Tom's body went limp again, all the fight drained out of him. "Then why am I here? What do you want from me?"

"I wanted answers." Ginny said, her voice still a whisper.

"And have you gotten them?"

She shrugged hopelessly. "I don't think I ever will." And there was the truth; she would never get any answers because he was right, it was over now and there was nothing anyone could do to change any of it.

"Then just let me go, little Ginny. Let me go."

She stared at him sitting there on her bed, looking so very young, and she grasped the stone a little tighter in her hand. "I can't do that either."

He was always with her now, and Ginny couldn't get enough of him. She was completely addicted and she had a feeling that he needed her just as badly, though he would never say such a thing.

"How old are you? I don't know why I've never asked." She said one night when everyone else in the house was asleep. She was sitting atop her covers with her arms hugging her knees to her chest, mainly to hide how her pajama top clung to her skin. There was something about being alone with him in dark, with the soft light from the candles illumining his handsome features, that made her feel a bit self-conscious.

"How old do I look?" He ran one of his hands through his hair, smiling a little. He could move his body at will now and he gained a little more strength each time she called for him, which was often. Walking was still difficult, but he could get around the house well enough.

They had both learned that while Ginny held the stone, no one else could see him. She could still remember her shock when Hermione had walked in on her one evening while she had been talking to Tom. Her friend told her that dinner was ready and then smiled as she left the room, leaving Ginny staring after her in surprise. She hadn't seen Tom sitting right there in front of her.

Thrilled at the new discovery, Ginny had given him a quick tour of her house the next day with her friends and family walking around completely unaware. She kept him clear of Harry, however. Tom didn't much like him, though he never said anything too hostile. It was a start.

"Sixteen?" She guessed. "I can't be certain. Do you know?"

"I think I'm fifteen. It's the age when I made my first… well, you know. It would make sense though, wouldn't it? That's the age when Tom Marvolo Riddle truly died and became someone else." He stared at her, watching her reaction to his choice of words, but Ginny had her features schooled perfectly, not showing even a little unease. Conversations with Tom were the perfect practice to learn how to hide emotions. She could lie so easily now.

"It does make sense." She agreed, suddenly wanting to drop the subject. "That means I'm older than you."

Tom smirked at her. "If you say so, little Ginny."

"Don't call me that." She frowned. "I'm not a child, Tom."

"As you often tell me. Fine then, _Ginevra_. Does that name make you feel older, more mature? I know how important names can be, how powerful they make us feel."

She glared at him and hugged her knees closer to her chest. He was cruel at times, especially now that emotion no longer caused him pain. He could feel freely, and it was very rare that he felt anything good. What goodness was there to be had when you were doomed to return to Nothingness? To death.

"Don't be a bastard." She hissed.

"I _was_ a bastard, so how can I be anything else? I was always one, and I suppose I always will be, until I cease to exist. I wonder when that will happen." He said, mostly to himself.

Ginny yawned unwillingly and let go of her legs so that she could stretch, enjoying the pull of the muscles in her arms and back. She saw that Tom was watching her every movement, and it made her flush; she brought her knees up to her chest again.

"Why do you cover yourself up so much? I thought you weren't a child?" He teased, but it wasn't playful. He was challenging her.

"It's not childishness, its modesty." She whispered. Heat coursed throughout her body and she shifted uncomfortably.

"I have seen breasts before, _Ginevra_, and bodies more nude than yours is now. Save the modesty for someone who can actually _fuck_ you instead of just look at you all the time. Save it for someone who isn't dead. Harry possibly?" He was smiling, but it looked harsh on his face.

"If you're going to be a disgusting toss-pot then I'm sending you back." She said, her voice shaking with anger and embarrassment. Her hand was already loosening around the stone, and Tom stared at her uncurling fingers.

"How is my family heirloom? Are you taking care of it?" He always called it that now, after she had explained to him where the stone had come from and what it was able to do. In life he would have never used it, but in death he realized how important it was. How precious and amazing. He wouldn't be here if it wasn't for that small black stone.

"Do you think I leave it laying about the house? Or that I let people borrow it? Of course I'm taking care of it! I'm no fool." She was still angry with him and he knew it. He smiled at her.

"Good girl. I would miss our little conversations if something should ever happen to it."

"You would miss _me_." She said, her anger making her brave.

"I would." He said in a hushed tone. "You've been a part of me for a long time, haven't you Ginny? You would miss me as well, if I were to never return."

And there was the trap. He was right, she _would_ miss him if he never came back, and it would be impossible to let him go now. She had never been free of him, since she was eleven years old, and perhaps she never would. They were stuck together, both of them needing the other, just as it had been with the diary. Only this time Tom was truly haunting her; her own personal ghost.

"The past repeats itself." She whispered, staring down at her hands. She could still see the ink stains and the bits of feathers sticking to the dark crimson blood. She shuddered. "If I let you go now, would I bring you back in five more years? Does nothing ever change? Will it always be you, or will I find another mad man to help drag me down further?"

Tom was quiet. She could feel his eyes on her, but she didn't meet his gaze. "Harry still wants me, you know." She said softly. "The way he looks at me, the way he touches me. He wants to make love to me, I can tell. But I can't… I don't deserve him, I never have. I deserve _you_." She looked up at him. He just stared at her, waiting for her to continue.

"You're the one person I shouldn't want, not after everything you've done, but I need you for some bloody awful reason."

"You wouldn't feel this way if I were still alive." He said after a moment. "You wouldn't want me, and I wouldn't want you to. But now you're my last hope, the only thing that's giving me peace from this cursed existence." He stretched out his arm before him and stared at his hand. It looked almost solid, but Ginny knew that if she reached out to touch him that he would feel like nothing. No flesh, no bone, not even a tingling cold sensation. He could sometimes touch certain objects, but contact with another person was forever denied to him.

"So you're just using me to keep you here, is that it?" She asked, already knowing the answer.

"Of course Ginny. Of course I am. Haven't I always used you? And haven't you always used me? I guess that answers one of your questions then. Nothing changes, not even in death. It's a horrible thing really, when you think about it."

Ginny didn't want to think about anything right now. She was so tired, always so tired these days.

"Yes," she murmured, her eyes drooping a bit. "It is rather horrible."

The stone fell from her slackened grasp.

It was a surprisingly sunny day for early December, causing the blanket of snow covering the school grounds to sparkle temptingly, luring the students out of their warm corridors and into the crisp winter air.

Seventh months after the death of Voldemort saw Hogwarts completely restored and its students returned, all excited to be back and ready to move on with their lives. Most of them had been able to.

"I really wish Ron were here." Hermione sighed, her breath catching in the air and momentarily freezing in front of her face. "It's a lovely day out. I wonder what he's doing."

"You'll see him soon." Ginny said, staring at a spot a few feet in front of where they sitting by the frozen lake. "The winter holiday is almost here."

"I know." Hermione sighed again. "I'm sure you're just as impatient as I am. You'll get to see Harry too." She said, smiling and nudging her friend in the side.

"Yes. I can't wait." The false excitement in her voice went undetected, as always. "He wrote to me the other day. Said he and Ron were doing well with the Auror training."

"Ron wrote as well. I'm so happy for them, but I wish they had come this year, it being our last and all. And yours as well. I bet you're excited to be finished."

"Yeah.." Ginny said, still distracted by the empty space in front of her.

"You okay Ginny?" Hermione asked after a moment. She sounded concerned. "I know things are still a bit rough for you, but you're always so distant. You rarely ever smile and when you do it's at the strangest times. Are you sure you want to stay here? You could leave and come back next year to finish. A few students are doing that and it's perfectly fine."

"No Hermione, I'm okay." Ginny said, turning her head to smile at her friend. "I've been just a little… preoccupied." She smiled again and this one wasn't forced or fake.

"With what?" Hermione asked, grinning knowingly. "It wouldn't be about a certain boy, would it?"

Ginny almost laughed and fixed her eyes back on the same empty spot. "Maybe it is."

Tom met her gaze and smiled, though it probably would have looked like something more predatory to others. "Little Miss Granger may be on to something. We'll have to watch out for her."

Ginny smirked and went back to just staring at him, not caring about anything else other than being alone with him tonight in her dormitory where no one could distract her from him.

"I'm glad things are getting better for you, for everyone." Hermione said. "I just want the past to stay behind us."

"Merlin, if only she knew." Tom said, laughing a little. "But she never will."

_Never_, Ginny agreed.

_No one would ever know._

Hidden inside of her glove, her hand clutched the Resurrection Stone so tight that the jagged crack almost cut into her skin.

"_You will be able to see me Ginevra, but only if you keep me close to your heart. Forever."_

And she would.


End file.
